


Returning to London

by ClassyGirlsWearPearls



Series: "Meeting the Family" and Other Tales [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Chair Sex, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Return sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyGirlsWearPearls/pseuds/ClassyGirlsWearPearls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft returns from Bangladesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning to London

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Missed You](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/35402) by clarice82. 



> As always, I own nothing, deepest apologies, you know the drill.
> 
> Inspired by art done by clarice82 on Tumblr. If you're in a public place, don't open it. I mean, you can if you're feeling like being daring, but I would maybe hold off because, you know, children or prudes or public decency codes.  
> (It is hot.)
> 
> Love you all! xoxoxo
> 
> Update: If any of y'all want to tell this lovely artist that this was inspired by her work, I would really appreciate it. I'm a deeply closeted fangirl in a sorority girl world and she doesn't have her anon asks on. So, uh, yeah. I'm a wimp. Help?

Greg walked heavily through the door into his and Mycroft’s home six days after he and Mycroft had had phone sex. It had been wonderful and Greg had loved every minute of it, but since then both of their schedules had conspired against them. Two days after, Mycroft had called to say that the issue was taking much longer to solve than it should have been. He warned Greg that his access to a phone would be limited due to the sensitive nature of these talks. After assuring Greg that he was safe and would return to him unscathed as soon as he could, he rang off. Greg, feeling somewhat hollow, wore a pair of Mycroft’s pajamas and clutched his pillow more tightly than he had during previous nights. Another two days passed, and Mycroft called again, saying that he would be detained longer than he had anticipated. He warned Greg not to expect him home for at least another week. Greg had sagged and could feel Mycroft sagging over the phone. Mycroft doled out a final blow when he said that he would most likely have no way of contacting him for the remainder of the trip. Greg felt sorry for himself, but Mycroft sounded so distraught over the phone that he had kept his distress in check and focused on comforting his husband.

Greg decided to throw himself into work because rattling around the house without Mycroft was painful, but soon he found himself exhausted and was snapping at everyone who crossed his path. To spare everyone from his unnecessary wrath, he brought his paperwork home and told his team to call him if anything turned up.

Two nights after the final call, Greg called Michelle and asked if he could have all available children over that night and the next day. All five of them showed up, and Greg was comforted by their presence. There was still a dull ache in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake, and at night when he couldn’t curl up with Mycroft he curled up with Katie, who had been having nightmares as of late and wanted her daddy. He pressed a kiss to his daughter’s hair as she snuggled into Mycroft’s side of the bed and fell asleep easier than he had since Mycroft had left. He woke up four times throughout the night as each of his children climbed into bed with him, and he marveled at their perceptiveness. Most of the time his kids wouldn’t even think to get into bed with him because they were too old, but they had done the same thing during his single period after the divorce. All of them would inevitably end up on the floor with him using some body part as a pillow. When he’d asked Sarah why, she had simply said, “You’re lonely and you don’t sleep well. You stop tossing and turning when we’re there.” In his emotionally fragile post-divorce state, Greg had curled up in his bed and cried himself to sleep. This time, he at least knew there was someone who would be coming home to him and who he loved wholeheartedly. It was still a comfort to have his children surrounding him.

The kids had left the next morning, and Greg felt somewhat rejuvenated. He did what he could to cut back on his work and not snap at everyone who crossed his path, but at the end of the day he was still lonely and sleeping in pajamas that smelled like his husband.

On the evening that Greg trudged through the door, Greg was feeling particularly worn down and fragile. There hadn’t been any new cases, but they had hit a few dead ends that had seemed like promising leads. Greg was frustrated and could feel a tension headache coming on as he toed off his shoes and loosened his tie in the foyer. His shoulders hung low and he could barely lift his feet off the ground until he heard footsteps coming from the kitchen and looked up in time to see Mycroft standing there drying his hands with a dishtowel.

Greg froze then took off. He flung himself into Mycroft’s arms, and Mycroft, who was incredibly strong despite appearances, lifted Greg off the ground as they collided. Greg wrapped his legs around Mycroft’s waist (something he still felt should be physically impossible but never questioned it when it happened) and kissed him deeply. They spent several minutes licking into each other’s mouths and suckling on lips before Mycroft began to walk into their den and deposited Greg in a large armchair. He broke their kiss and said, “Hello.”

“Hi,” Greg panted. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, and I you,” Mycroft replied. He leaned down and kissed Greg again, this time in a gentler and more controlled manner. Greg pulled him down by his tie and Mycroft straddled him on the chair. Greg breathed a sigh of relief into Mycroft’s mouth as he was surrounded by the sight, smell, and body of Mycroft Holmes.

“No,” Greg growled. “I’ve missed you every damn day. I’ve been distracted and awful to everyone around me because I didn’t have you. Please tell me you aren’t going away again anytime soon because I don’t know if I’ll be able to take that.”

“Not in the foreseeable future,” Mycroft sighed. “I ached for you every moment I was away. When were so focused on the negotiations that I was forbidden to contact anyone so my concentration wasn’t negatively affected I could barely concentrate because I didn’t have you to ground me and to just be there for me so I wouldn’t feel so out of sorts and so homesick. I’ve never been homesick before. It was awful. Why weren’t you there?”

“God, I don’t know. Next time you’ll just have to hire me to be in your security detail and give me express orders to never leave your side.”

“Perfect.” Mycroft leaned down again and said with his lips just barely brushing against Greg’s, “I grabbed the lubricant when I went upstairs to unpack and I am going to have you right here in this chair very slowly.” He then pressed their lips back together and got to work unbuttoning Greg’s clothes.

“Fantastic,” Greg moaned, shimmying out of his blazer and reaching up to reach for Mycroft’s shirt buttons. He had miraculously lost his blazer, waistcoat, and tie before Greg had arrived home, which would make the task much easier. They wasted no time taking off shirts, and soon trousers and pants were being kicked aside, and Mycroft was fumbling with Greg’s socks while trying to remove his with his feet and not looking because they were still kissing. After a moment of struggling, they were both naked and Greg was positioned in the chair so he was tipping the lower half of his body up to give Mycroft easier access to prepare him. Mycroft moved his right index finger in first, and Greg gasped at the slow burn of a finger entering him. He reminded himself to relax and bore down in an attempt to accept Mycroft more easily. He felt his body working to remember what it was like to have Mycroft in him and he felt himself relax further and the finger slid in all the way. Mycroft thrust it in and out a few times before he began moving it in circles around the edge of his sphincter in order to prepare him for a second finger. Soon enough, the second finger was added, and then eventually a third was placed in with the other two.

Mycroft pulled his fingers out without any advance warning, and Greg could feel his muscles fluttering and trying to recapture the sensation of something inside of him. A wave of relief crashed over him as he watched Mycroft place a large dollop of lubricant on his palm to be used for excellent purposes.

After he’d slicked himself up, Mycroft moved his fingers back to Greg to ensure that he was still open. Satisfied, he met Greg’s eyes and silently asked for permission to enter him. Greg nodded, slightly breathless, and soon after he felt the blunt sensation of Mycroft pressing slowly into him. Again, Greg bore down in order to aid the process of the initial breach of a muscle that wasn’t technically designed to pull things into the body, and not long after he felt the blunt sensation of Mycroft’s hipbones against his skin. He sighed.

Completely buried in his husband, Mycroft stayed still for a moment just looking at Greg. He had hitched Greg’s left leg up into the crook of the elbow of his right arm for ease of access, but now that he was in he didn’t put it down. Instead, he braced his right hand in the crux of the elbow of Greg’s left arm, while Greg grabbed his forearm. His left hand was buried in Greg’s hair, and Greg’s other arm was brushing the side of Mycroft’s body so he was able to grasp one of the globes of flesh on Mycroft’s behind. Their foreheads and noses were touching, and they were staring into each other’s eyes as if the rest of the world had fallen away.

“I love you,” Greg breathed.

“I love you as well,” Mycroft replied softly, moving the hand buried in Greg’s hair down to stroke his cheek briefly before moving it back up to lightly grasp his husband’s thick silver hair. “Ready?”

Greg nodded, and Mycroft pulled back until only the head of his cock was still inside, and then gently reinserted himself all the way. Greg moaned softly. Changing the angle slightly, Mycroft repeated this maneuver until Greg let out a shudder and a sigh, and his eyes fluttered closed. Smiling, Mycroft began to pick up the pace. They found a rhythm that they were happy with and Greg was pushing up to meet nearly every thrust that Mycroft made. When he was able to make his neurons fire properly, Greg remembered to squeeze down on Mycroft, which elicited a deep grunt from the man above him.

Ten minutes or so after Mycroft entered him, his hips began to stutter. He squeezed Greg wherever his hands were placed in an effort to distract himself, and he ducked his head to stare at Greg’s diaphragm rather than his face.

“Look at me,” Greg panted.

Mycroft shook his head.

“Mycroft, look at me,” Greg choked.

Clearly reluctant, Mycroft looked up, and Greg pulled himself up into a sloppy kiss. As Mycroft became more erratic, he gathered his wits and clamped down as hard as he could. Mycroft’s head jerked down sharply and he buried his face in Greg’s neck, moaning and panting into the hollow just below his Adam’s apple. Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair and savored the feeling of being filled up by his husband.

Once Mycroft came back to himself, he raised his head and looked at Greg’s face. He wore a fond smile, but his pupils were blown and he was flushed. Taking pity, Mycroft gently eased his elevated leg down and slid slowly out of him. He quickly dropped to his knees in between Greg’s legs, which were now firmly planted on the carpet. Mycroft hooked them over his shoulder and thrust three fingers back into Greg, feeling the mixture of his own semen and the lubricant they had used earlier as he felt gently for Greg’s prostate. While searching for this, he dipped his head down and took part of Greg’s cock into his mouth, lapping gently at the frenulum and enjoying the way that it fit against his palate and how his tongue could hit both that sensitive patch of skin and lick up and down the vein that was so sensitive. He soon found Greg’s prostate and began massaging it gently. Greg let out a strangled moan and put his fingers in Mycroft’s head in an encouraging way that was in no way forceful. He bucked up and down a bit whenever his prostate was stimulated, but he kept it mostly under control so he didn’t overwhelm Mycroft. Sensing this, Mycroft pulled off and instead used his free hand to stimulate Greg’s penis.

Soon, Greg’s hips were thrusting up in earnest and he gasped, “Mycroft. Gonna – gonna – gonnaahhhhhh–”

Greg came in between them, getting semen on both of them. Mycroft squatted in between Greg’s legs with his fingers still inside of Greg marveling at his husband and just how gorgeous he was. He waited until Greg began to come back to himself, then he helped him up and they both made their way to the bathroom on shaky legs. He sat Greg on the toilet and wet a washcloth for them so he could clean up. He quickly wiped himself down and then moved onto Greg, who was still experiencing the awkward aftereffects of being on the receiving end of anal sex without a condom. Mycroft tenderly wiped him down, and as he was doing so Greg slumped backwards and declared, “No more business trips.”

Mycroft looked distressed. “I don’t know if I can help that, Gregory love.”

“I know, just – no more. You know. No more. No more for a long time. Or for as long as you can swing it. Missing you for a night isn’t even worth reunion sex a tenth as good as that was.”

Mycroft kissed Greg gently as he wrapped up his cleanup. “No more business trips for the foreseeable future then.”


End file.
